Pivoines
by Bonenzone
Summary: BE proposal one-shot with flashbacks to some of their most important relationship moments.
**AN: I'm not a fan of the italic switch between past and present tense so just know this story transitions in and out of both a lot. Enjoy xx**

The days that she awoke to an empty bed were always the longest. There was once a time when they would barely leave the room for more than a five-minute stretch and while the thought sent a flush of warmth over her skin, it also brought back that ache in her chest that she could usually prolong for a few hours. This was the fifth morning in a row without him in her sheets and the novelty of having the bed to herself had worn off quickly. He was on another quest; this one for her, as they so often were. But five days with nothing more than a questionable phone signal to connect them had elongated the days and worse yet, the nights. This was the longest he had been away since those early days together and she was missing the nights she spent draped simply in his limbs.

Forcing herself upright, Bonnie placed her feet on the cool wooden floor. Her motivation had become little more than to maintain the routine that had kept her occupied these past years. As she dressed herself from the same familiar selection, she looked toward another day of reading broken up by her mundane chore list. Sometimes she'd even change it up a little – she would make her breakfast first, _then_ light the fire. There was a degree of peace associated with the repetition which, she acknowledged, shared a fine line with madness. While she loved the home they had made together, its tiny four walls didn't feel the same without the sound of his fingers dancing across a guitar or his commentary on how her fire lighting skills had still not improved.

Shaking her head at the fact she missed him enough to put up with his fire-lighting critique, she walked towards the fire place and noticed the heat before seeing the flame. The fire was already lit. Confused, she wondered if she had left it burning through the night but after a moment's thought she remembered the trouble she had putting it out. No, this one was started recently, maybe while she was in the shower, maybe earlier. The smell of coffee followed and she looked towards the kitchen to see a freshly brewed pot sitting next to two pieces of avocado on toast. Her head spun, eyes darting around every inch of the cabin in search of his face.

"Enzo?" she called, but was met with no response.

Walking towards the kitchen, she scanned the room once more. Upon moving the plate of still warmish toast, she discovered a small white square of folded paper which, when opened, revealed some familiar handwriting.

 _Hello, love. I thought we'd try something a little different today. We're going to play a word association game. I write a word and you go to the spot that_ you _would associate with it to collect your next clue. I promise you'll be handsomely rewarded. Your first word is 'Thom'. Now eat up, and get going xo - E_

She held the message to her face trying to hide the grin that had spread across it from the moment she recognized his handwriting. Forcing the corners of her mouth to drop, she announced loudly to no-one in particular, "Okay, but this handsome reward of mine better not have made the questions too hard or he might be waiting a while…"

A combination of the excitement to see him again, a break in her routine and her competitive spirit meant she could only stomach a few bites of her toast before setting off after her first clue.

 _Thom._

He had started off fairly easy. She thought back to that first month in the cabin, when the home she now considered safe and inviting had once seemed suffocating. She didn't trust him, but she didn't trust anyone back then. Damon had seen to that. She'd shut herself off because it was safer that way and when Enzo tried to break through her many barriers she would just reinforce them. The worst part was that she could feel herself doing it but couldn't help it.

There was one particular day when the weather had taken a turn overnight and they were both sharing the couch in front of the fireplace while working on their research. She was reading the same text over for the second time and he was being restless, reading no more than a few pages of the same book then skipping ahead. At one point he picked up the guitar that she had assumed was purely decorative and sat back down lightly strumming at it. She wanted to tell him it was a distraction and to stop, but there was something so delicate in the way he handled the instrument. He had a real respect for it, and it translated directly into the semi-familiar tune he was playing. After what must've been more than ten minutes, he stopped abruptly and looked at her.

"Do you want to have a go?" he offered.

She realised she'd been staring for at least a few minutes.

"No thanks," she replied, quickly burying her head back in her book.

Weeks later, while he was away at work for a longer stretch than normal, she picked up the guitar and tried to teach herself how to play it. It did not go well. For some reason she had thought that after an hour of playing she would have mastered at least one song. All she did find was an appreciation for how difficult it was to play. Upon his return she sucked up her pride and asked him for a lesson. She still had that one song in mind, the one he played that first time and the one that had been stuck in her head for months.

"That might be a bit advanced for a beginner, love."

She hated that term of endearment. She hated that she liked it so much.

"Well, if this cabin had any signal I'd be letting a 12 year old teach me on YouTube so if you're not up for the challenge…" she replied, only to be met with narrowed eyes.

"And what a challenge it's going to be," he countered, to which she mirrored his previously unimpressed expression.

The song was Radiohead's "Karma Police" and the heavily sombre tune fitted him like a bespoke suit.

That lesson was her first real olive branch. It had taken her weeks to accept the good in him, to stop looking for his ulterior motive. Worse yet, waiting for him to give up on her, realising she was more trouble than she was worth and trading her to Alex for something more appealing. She had no magic to offer, nothing more than some basic research, and it was hard for her to understand that that was enough. The olive branch had opened them up to the first thing they had really begun to bond over.

But it didn't last long.

He was an infuriating teacher and she was unhappy that her secret practices had been for naught. She ended up telling him the song was far too depressing and she wanted to start with something simpler, but it was because she couldn't stand butchering the tune with her own clumsy fingers. In hindsight she could see that he had that figured out, as he mentioned he had a copy of the album on vinyl before they moved on to some easier songs. Often when he would leave she would put it on, falling for every song on the album after a time.

It was hard for her to think back to those early days of animosity, knowing now that this was the man who took a piece of her with him every time he left their home. She would be forever grateful that she extended that olive branch, and while her playing had progressed, it was the memories left behind that were her greatest accomplishment. The many nights writing music together, of his voice wrapping itself around her own. It had become a favourite pastime of theirs, and it all started with a single Radiohead song, sung by lead singer Thom Yorke.

Placing the clue in her pocket, she walked towards his music collection and found the familiar album cover. As she pulled out the record, she was greeted with another folded white note.

 _Don't think I didn't know about your secret love for the ever 'depressing' Radiohead. I had to replace this record after you wore the first one down. Now, college girl, your next word is 'Stieglitz' - E_

Another name but this clue was a little harder.

Bonnie had found an old camera in Enzo's stuff around six months after moving into the cabin. It was funny because she knew every inch of it by that point and one day the camera just turned up on the writing desk with an unused roll of film inside. She took a few shots of the scenery, flowers in bloom, the occasional close-up of a bird nest. It was purely out of boredom, but she found herself asking him to have them developed due to sheer curiosity. As he handed her the photos he asked her why she had taken so many of "weeds and trees?" which brought about a ban on him checking the photos until she was ready to share her favourites. He agreed, supplying her with the film and developing the pictures when she was done.

After the first few months she got pretty good, and Enzo bought her a large board to hang in the bedroom to display her favourite photos. He would comment she was the next Alfred Steiglitz, a photographer who helped convince the world that photography was as valid an art form as painting. He offered to by her a more modern piece of equipment - eventually doing so as a Christmas gift - but there was something about the old camera that she loved and she continued to go back to.

She figured it out one day while experimenting with a self-portrait. It reminded her of the one her mother had left behind before she abandoned her. It was the same one her Grams used to take photos of all of her major milestones, and a connection to the part of her life that she had left behind long ago. She told Enzo one day when he asked her why she still used the older camera over the new one he had given her, and after she explained he left a bulk order of 20 unused film cartridges sitting in the same spot she had 'found' the old camera in all those months earlier.

Walking to the photo board in their room, she began checking each side for a sign of his next clue. She lifted the edges, even a few photos. Stepping back, she couldn't help but notice how different the photos were now to the ones she had initially placed on that board. The familiar scenery was still there but it was balanced now with more pictures of happy, smiley faces than the same repeated landscapes. Pictures of stolen kisses and silly faces were dotted throughout the collage with the occasional one from Caroline and Ric of the girls. Her world, which was once filled with the life happening around her, was now filled with them, and she was a little hurt that this wasn't what his clue was referring to. She sat on the bed, racking her brain for what else it could possible mean. Could it be the camera itself? Or maybe one of the locations of her favourite photos. Then she recalled something.

Her very favourite photo she kept in a book, concealed in her bedside table. It was one of Enzo, his back to her, standing outside with a cup of coffee in his hand and staring straight ahead. She watched him for a good twenty minutes from the window in the cabin. It was freezing that day and she thought he was crazy, standing perfectly still, his coffee now probably ice cold. He did that sometimes; stare blankly at nothing in particular. She would tell him he was having one of his blackouts again and he would fake an amused smile. Reaching for her camera nearby, she took the picture with the intention of having photographic evidence of these blackouts. When it was developed she saw something completely different.

It was simply Enzo, dark denim and leather jacket, framed by orange and yellow leaves on a hazy Autumn day. There was something so desperately solitary in the photo that resonated with her. She thought back to all those stories he told of his childhood and how he knew no other life than to be working at five years old, to lose so many people around you at a young age, or to be abandoned by your family. There was something in that photo, a connection to the loneliness that she recognized. One that she only recognized in him.

Thinking back, he had no idea about the photo so it wasn't likely to be the clue. Still, she checked the draw for her book, noticing a wider gap in the pages than normal. He was clearly trying to tell her something, and she assumed it was that he knew her better than she knew herself.

Opening the new note, her cheeks flushed as she read the next key word.

 _I like this one too. Now for a change of pace. 'Ribbon' you saucy minx. - E_

There was no doubt as to what he was referring to this time.

It was Enzo's first birthday since they had become a couple and she had struggled with what to get him within her limited resources. He was also impossible to out gift, having derived an infuriating sense of pleasure from his own thoughtfulness. For her last birthday he had a custom-made necklace created based on one her Grams had owned. She'd mentioned it story a few months prior, and recalled that he asked her to be more descriptive but hadn't thought much of it. It was a pearl necklace that he had laced with a peridot gemstone on a silver setting placed between each perfect orb. The gems matched the olive in her eyes and the setting reminded her of being a young girl, playing in her Grams forbidden jewellery box.

It was nearly impossible to outdo that when all she had at her disposal was a home full of his own pre-loved stuff. She was going to have Caroline help her find a guitar he wanted but she knew he'd never give any hints away. Then it hit her. While she couldn't match him in material goods, there was something that she owned which levelled the playing field. During one of their long conversations prior to their official relationship status change, she mentioned to him that she was a cheerleader in high school. She knew that he stopped listening to the rest of her story when he stopped her a minute after she'd moved on, asking her to go back and describe her uniform. After that he often brought it up in conversation to throw her off and it only got worse when they were officially together.

Enlisting Caroline's help, she had her retrieve the perfect gift - her old cheerleading uniform, pom poms and some thick red ribbon to go with the ensemble. Caroline added multiple pieces of lingerie to the mix, advising she was living vicariously through her and demanding she let her have her fun. While Bonnie did well to hide the majority of his present, Enzo stumbled across a few items in her draw while putting away laundry and when she told him the source, he asked if Caroline could start sending her care packages.

The evening of his birthday, Bonnie made him dinner which he assumed was his present. She ended the meal by telling him she had a headache and wanted to end the evening cuddling in his arms. He was visibly disappointed for a moment, but he kissed her on the cheek and told her he'd be waiting for her after her nightly shower. She left the water running as she changed, barely able to hold back her excitement at the impending surprise.

The memory of his face when she opened that door never failed to bring a mischievous smile to her lips.

He was upright, already undressed and under the sheets with a book in his hand. She pushed the door open forcefully to announce her presence and stood there with her hair in pigtails, two thick ribbons wrapped around each hair-tie. The low cut maroon halter top she wore just reached the waist of the barely-there matching mini-skirt that had a large black slit which ended at the top of her thigh. He dropped the book at the sight of her, followed by his jaw.

"Ready? Okay!" she cheered, pulling out her pom poms and shaking them enthusiastically, "I hear there is a special birthday boy in here who deserves a big birthday cheer!"

A laugh escaped his throat as a cough and he moved his mouth to say something only for it to be followed by an awed silence. His eyes said enough, darting over her body, unsure where exactly to rest. He looked ready to devour her and she revelled in her successful gift choice.

Bouncing towards him, she tilted her head to the side and bit her bottom lip, his reaction encouraging even more of a performance from her than she had intended.

"Coach gave me very clear instructions to make sure you get a good workout before the big game tomorrow," she advised.

His eyes grew as large with excitement as the grin across his face.

"So this is how your Football lads won all of those ga-"

She shoved her pom poms in his face to shut him up.

"I really must insist, even if that means I need to ride you hard to get results."

His dark eyes were full of mischief and he challenged her with a smirk, "and if I don't comply?"

She took his challenge, climbing onto the bed and wrapping her thighs around his, pinning him in place.

"Then I'll just have to make you."

"I was hoping you'd say that," he grinned.

She positioned her body forward, tilting her hips teasingly to get a better idea of just how aroused he was. More than satisfied with her handy work, she leaned back, giving him a full few of her up close. He leaned towards her for a kiss but she placed a finger to his forehead and pushed him back, wagging it to remind him who was in charge. He settled for running his hands along her thighs and gripping her hips as she balanced on top of him, raising her arms and removing a ribbon from one of her pigtails. Taking his left hand, she leaned forward, the low cut of her halter just inches from his face, and tied his wrist to the headboard with the dark red ribbon. As she returned to her previous position, undoing the other ribbon in her hair, he squeezed her thigh before volunteering his free hand willingly.

"Now that's a good boy, "she grinned, wickedly, as she reached for the pom pom's once again.

Bonnie pulled herself out of the memory feeling a few degrees hotter than before. She knew he'd be watching for her reaction from wherever he was hiding and she wasn't going to give him anything. From time to time she'd go to put her clothes away and her cheer uniform would be out of storage and sitting right in the center of the drawer. He even included brand new ribbons. It always elicited a chuckle followed quickly by the comment of "special occasions only, football stud."

Turning on her heels she walked to the bedroom and considered looking for her uniform. First, however, she moved to the headboard and ran her hand down the left-hand side. Unsurprisingly, her fingers grazed another note and she laughed at the sheer audacity he had to include that as one of the clues. _Well played,_ she said under her breath, assuming he was listening.

 _In need of some cooling off? Let's head outside. This is an early one, and I'm going to cheat with the use of two words, here - 'Turning Point' - E_

This was the first clue that had her stumped. They had had plenty of turning points in their relationship and she wasn't sure which one he was referring to. Could it be when she started falling for him? Because there was no way he could know that, she'd only just remembered it herself. He'd say it was their New Year's Eve dinner, where he dressed the cabin in hundreds of tiny lights and romanced her to the sound of Billie Holiday playing through the air. No, she figured out she had started to fall for him long before that when she was having a conversation with Caroline one day.

"So if one of the girls has something, the other has to have it. I have to buy two of everything! But do you think that works? No, they want what the other has, not a copy of it. If one of them is holding something, that's the one the other has to have!"

Bonnie laughed, "Oh, I know how that feels. If I'm researching a book, Enzo feels the need to pick it up after I've read it to make sure I haven't missed anything. He tries to be so sly about it but it drives me crazy."

"…Okay," Caroline replied.

"What?"

"Well, it's just that every part of your conversation so far has somehow come back around to being about Enzo…"

"Oh!" she replied, genuinely surprised.

"Can I ask you something?" Caroline started.

"I'd rather you didn't, let's not read too much into this."

"No, honestly, this isn't the first time. You've been doing this for a while now and, well…?"

"Well, _what?"_

"Well…are you starting to have feelings for Enzo?"

"No! Honestly, he just drives me so crazy! Do you know what he's doing now? He has been teaching me this new song, right, but he has a habit of just taking control and moving my fingers into the chords he wants, which is not what a teacher is meant to do at all, and honestly it's more distracting than helpful and –"

"Bonnie," Caroline stopped her, "you're rambling now."

"I gotta go. There's something… I gotta … bye."

"Okay, by-"

Bonnie ended the call furious, though she had no idea why. That conversation played on her mind for days and she was mad that it was all she could focus on at one point. As hard as it was for her to finally admit, she had developed feelings of some sort, a crush, and she had no clue if he felt the same. As soon as the two of them got close he would make an excuse to leave for the day. He did it once halfway through a dinner he was preparing. She asked him about once and he told her that he didn't want to read too much into it, as he had done with Lily. He was terrified of history repeating but this time for a girl he could actually see a future with.

Little did he know that by that New Year's she was his.

But that couldn't be the turning point he was referring to. As she walked around the back of the cabin, it came to her, the turning point that he was referring to.

It was within the first few months of their living arrangement, and while she had resigned herself to the fact she had no idea how long this tiny house would be her home, she was starting to feel restless. Enzo had brought her breakfast as he often did on his days off, and was spending another day researching alongside her. She recalled being deep in a passage when his annoyed voice broke her concentration.

"Are you going to continue doing that all day?"

"Doing what?" she answered with a scowl.

"That incessant leg bouncing. You've been doing it for the last 10 minutes and I've been unable to get past the same line ever since you started."

She had no idea why this infuriated her but it was as if months of pent up emotions decided to hit her all at once, rolling off her tongue like venom.

"Well, I'm sorry if you're okay with being locked away from the world but I'm not. I had a life outside of these walls, friends. Now I'm stuck here, day in and day out, with you as my only company. Clearly my frustration is manifesting itself in the form of a restless leg but that's fine, I'll deal with it. So long as you're not inconvenienced."

He sighed and moved to the couch. They didn't say another word to one another for hours and she hated that the only place she could go to get some privacy was either the bathroom or what was once his bedroom. She had tried for so long not to say anything about her situation as the alternative was so much worse and she didn't want to seem ungrateful, but the fact he walked away from her… any closeness they had formed over their few months together had been undone with that one conversation and she was pretty sure neither of them actually read anything past a full page that day.

The next morning, the silence she was used to was interrupted by the sound of wood being hammered and chains being moved. It was coming from behind the cabin, which was nothing more than a rundown patch of land that extended into the woods around them. As she slipped her feet into some shoes and wrapped herself in a light jacket, she walked around the side of the house, stopping short when she saw what was before her. The formerly desolate backyard had been transformed with a vegetable garden, a large flowerbed and a half-assembled hanging day-bed that Enzo was putting together.

"What's all this?" she asked, still a little frosty after yesterday but her tone had already begun to soften.

He didn't look up as he secured one of the chains to the base of the rectangular daybed.

"Well, with you eating me out of house and home, it seemed like having a fresh garden to tend to would be wise… give you something to manage outside of dusty old pages of text."

He glanced at her for just a second before returning to fix another chain to the wooden base. She wasn't sure what to say, but she suddenly felt awful. He had created an extension of his home for her because she had let her emotions boil over. She felt no better than a toddler throwing a tantrum.

"It's really thoughtful, Enzo. Thank you."

Unsure of what more to say, she turned to walk back inside when he called out to her.

"They're peonies, you know. Well, they will be."

She turned back around, "Sorry?"

He pointed at the garden bed, "Peonies. I know they're you're favourite but I wasn't sure which colour you preferred so it's a mixture of pink and white."

The confusion on her face was clearly question enough because he answered it.

"You mentioned it, once. When I jokingly asked you if you wanted a rose for Valentine's Day and you told me they were commercial and overrated. Then you said you preferred Peonies."

She felt validated that this was the Enzo she saw back when she told him he deserved better than Lily. The glimpses of a man who went out of his way to protect her, saved her from The Armory and built her an outdoor space because she was restless. This was the Enzo she saw as a friend, the one she tried to reassure Caroline she was safe with. And this was the turning point that she knew he was referring to in his note, there was no doubt in her mind.

Walking along the path he had laid, she looked around her garden. On a small stake in front of her favourite white peonies was a familiar square of paper. She retrieved it, intrigued as to why he selected this memory after the previous one.

 _"This garden was the first time I realised I was no longer able to think of only me and my needs, where suddenly I had to think of 'her' before 'me' and eventually 'us'. I learned that being selfish was no longer an option but a choice, and you were the one to teach me. I know this means something different to you but it was an important turning point in my life and I'm thankful for it. I much prefer it this way. Lucky last – '85' - E"_

His words had touched her. He was never shy about expressing an emotion or a feeling, and she was the opposite. Years of bottling her suffering up, hiding it from the people she loved, they had caused her to repress a lot of negative energy only for it to overwhelm her at times. He had shown her she was safe to express how she felt, even insisted upon it, and she was learning. They were both better for having the other in their lives and this trip down memory lane had her to the point that she didn't want any more clues, she just wanted to be with him again.

But this was the last one, and it was an easy one at that. Walking towards the hanging daybed, she moved some of the cushions aside before taking a seat. Looking under the sun-protector above her head she saw a note tucked into the corner. She took it, sitting back and swinging her legs a few times, holding the paper in her hand and reflecting on the memory he had led her to. The first time they said "I love you" to one another.

It was the start of Summer and the Peonies were in full bloom. Enzo had planted some other flowers that did better in the cooler months, but she loved this time of year in the garden. The daybed - littered in various Balinese pillows - had become her favourite place to come and do research. His placement of it was perfect, right next to the flowerbed that scented the air with various floral perfumes. The view she had of him working in the garden was also not bad, much better than any TV show she could think of.

He was bent over, collecting what they would use for a salad later that night. The garden he had built for her had become a one of _his_ favourite pass-times and he was forever testing the soil, checking it for contaminates. He'd gloat over the size of his tomatoes and the taste that you only got from "growing your own" and for some reason she found it completely endearing.

He walked towards her on the daybed, holding his basket full of produce proudly. Placing it on the ground, he took a seat next to her, kicking off the swing as he did. He put a hand on her shoulder and pulled her into him so she set her book down choosing to place her head on his chest and curl into his side. They sat in silence for a few minutes. His thumb lightly grazed the same spot on her arm in a comforting motion she was so used to now.

"We're like an old married couple," she remarked, breaking the silence.

"How so?"

"You, tending to the garden. Me, reading and thinking about how I can extend the short blooming life of my peonies."

"You turned me into this herbivore hunter-and-gatherer," he accused, "and you'd better get used to it. If I have my way this will be what we'll be doing for the next sixty years."

His tone was light but it caused that familiar lump in her throat to form. She pulled her head from his chest and looked into his eyes.

"You think we'll still be together when I'm in my eighties?"

He furrowed his brow at the question, "Is there any reason I shouldn't?"

"Because I'll be old and you'll look like you could be my grandson," she replied, her voice wavering ever so slightly.

He ran his hand along the side of her neck, his thumb grazing her cheek lightly, his eyes determined.

"And you think me so shallow that I would love your exterior any less? I'm 150 years old, Bonnie. My exterior doesn't match the man I am either but you still fell in love with me. This love we have, it's not your standard high school fare. I fell for you because you are kind and generous, as well as loyal to a fault. How could I possibly love you any less as I get to watch you grow and age, every new laugh line something I've helped create."

She felt her eyes tear up and remained silent; worried that if she spoke it would come out as a sob instead.

"When will you get it through you head, Bonnie Bennett, that I am not going anywhere? You are everything I have wanted to love in this world for 150 years and I will not ever let you go. You have my word."

She was overwhelmed and wondered why she had doubted him. He had never given her any reason to and he was so steadfast in his declaration that she felt foolish. He was everything she had wanted too – he challenged her, protected her, was always there when she needed, and above all he loved her so completely that she felt spoiled, unworthy. She needed to stop looking for the fault in their relationship and to enjoy it for what it was, and he had encouraged nothing less. She was not as poetic as he was, but she said the words that he knew meant more than their mere three syllables.

"I love you."

His face filled with a pure joy that she will always remember as he took a deep, satisfied breath before replying, "I love you, too."

She remembered kissing him after that and sitting with him for hours, talking about their lives together and their future plans. It would forever be one of her favourite memories and she appreciated that he left it for the last clue. She was also ready to end their game and find her 'handsome reward' waiting for her.

 _It's time to come inside, my darling. I hope you have your passport ready. - E_

Her excitement had her on her feet, overriding her confusion. Racing along the path, to the front of the house, she took a tentative step towards the door opening it slowly. Inside the cabin had been decorated in to resemble a Parisian café, a destination they talked about going to together so often over their time together. Initially it started as revenge for all the times he brought up her cheerleading uniform, but at some point it turned into much more.

The curtains were drawn, and he had once again adorned the room in lights, but they twinkled this time. The painting above the fireplace was now a glowing Paris street scene and above it a sign that read "Café des pivoines." The table was moved in front of it, just as it had been during their New Year's Eve dinner but it had a centrepiece this time - a glowing Eiffel Tower replica that sat next to a bottle of French champagne. 'La Vie en Rose' played through the air, which was scented with something coming from the kitchen that made her salivate.

But best of all he was there. His arms as wide as his smile, he welcomed her into the room in the tailored navy suit she loved. Before she had a chance to care that she was so under-dressed, she let out a small squeal and ran to him, wrapping herself around his body like a bow and kissing him as if to make up for every kiss they hadn't had in the last five days. He held her tightly; her entire bodyweight supported in his arms, and kissed her back in the same voracious manner. She eventually broke away and let her feet touch the floor once more as he supported her with his hand pressed against the small of her back while she found her balance. Leaning forward, he pressed his cheek against hers and whispered "Welcome to Paris, my darling."

"Our own little Paris," she said, lacing her fingers to rest at the nape of his neck.

He looked down at her face and she registered something strange in his expression. While happy to see her, he also looked nervous. She wondered if he felt bad for not being able to deliver the real thing but he had no idea just how perfect this day had already been. Her journey down memory lane, each memory a part of their history, all culminating in her fantasy destination. She often spoke about re-seeing Europe with him, and he would indulge her for hours about potential travel destinations together as if it was going to happen, as if she was safe and free to live like any other girl her age. It was all just a fantasy, but he had brought it to life for her. She showed her appreciation in the only way she could as she leaned forward once more and kissed him, slowly and softly this time.

As their lips parted and he opened his eyes, he whispered, "God, how I missed you."

His hands moved down her body, resting at the side of her waist, and he nodded his head towards the bedroom door. She noticed a sign above it that read "Moulin Rouge" and she laughed.

"Well if this was an elaborate plan to get me into bed, then it worked," she confessed.

"My entire existence is an elaborate plan to get you into bed, my little minx, but first – "he raised one hand as a gesture to hold that thought then walked to the corner of the room to pick up a bag. Passing it to her, she pulled out a large green dress box with a French name written on the lid. Removing the ribbon, then the lid, she undid the delicate tissue inside to reveal a bright yellow springtime dress. It looked like something Grace Kelly would wear, high neck, sleeveless, full skirt that began just at the hip but ended just above the knees. It was stunning, though not entirely appropriate for the cooler weather they were experiencing. Still, she thanked him for it while holding it against her body and swaying the full skirt back and forth.

"Thank you, but what have I told you about getting me gifts?" she said, trying hard to feign some disappoint in her voice.

"I know, but I can't have you walking around the real streets of Paris in those sweatpants you so adore."

She had been mesmerized by the textured fabric when she stopped abruptly. The several questions she suddenly had filtering out of her mouth in one all-encompassing word.

"What?"

"Well," he started, his nerves betraying his voice, "you always said you wanted to honeymoon in Paris."

She took a full step back. Reading his face for any signs of jest, all she found was hope. He took the dress from her as she stood frozen in place, and set it to the side. He then dropped to one knee just as her heart dropped into her stomach. Holding her hand in his, he spoke – his voice slow and rehearsed.

"Bonnie Bennett, the thought of losing you to anything other than time is something I cannot bear. I hope that my actions tell you that every single day, and I rely on your frankness to put me in my place if I ever falter. You told me once I deserved better and I never told you, but those words sat with me for years. When I eventually returned them I meant it, but I didn't think at the time that I was worthy of that fire in you, your loyalty or your passion. You made me work to be that man, the man I am today, and while I cannot repay you for the way you have loved and continue to love me, I can offer you this – I will never leave you, I will return your loyalty and I will always, always love you."

His hand left hers to reach into his jacket pocket and she quickly used her free one to catch the tears now streaking her face. He held a small box before her, opening it to reveal a large emerald cut diamond in a white gold setting, surrounded by small peridot gems. It was stunning, but not overdone. While he knew how to pick the perfect gift, she knew Caroline had had a hand in the setting. She could see it in the details.

"Will you do me the honour of waking up to this face every morning, of telling me I'm boring you when I talk about my tomatoes and of always challenging me to be someone deserving of you."

He placed the ring on her finger and it fit as if it had always meant to be a part of her. Holding it closer her face, her hand trembling, she looked down at his encouraging eyes.

"Yes, I think I can do that," she answered, her voice on the cusp of breaking into a sob. He jumped to his feet and wrapped her in his arms, swinging her around in a full circle. Setting her down, he held her tightly against his chest and she played with his tie as they stood for a few minutes holding one another. Eventually when the tears had stopped falling, she looked up at him and felt the joy in his face radiate through her body.

"Does this mean you're soon to be Mr. Bonnie Bennett?" she joked.

He didn't dismiss it at all, instead smiling down his answer, "What a modern couple we would make."

She laughed. He would do it, too, though that was a discussion for another day. Their little Bennett family, starting life anew. She wouldn't be like her parents, and he wouldn't be like his. They would never leave each other; they would never leave their children if they decided to bring some into their family. They had all the time in the world to talk about this at length but for now, after everything he had pulled off today, she wanted more.

"You know what," she said, her voice full of mischief, "I have the perfect outfit to compliment this ring."

"There is no need to change, my darling. This is not the real Paris, after all."

She peeled away from him and started walking towards the bedroom.

"The green will really go well with a certain maroon outfit I have tucked away."

His entire face lifted, "But it's not my birthday?"

"Special occasions, remember?"

"Well if I'd known it were this easy I'd have proposed much, much earlier."

She leaned against the doorframe.

"Oh, I'm not going to make this easy. Not at all. Now turn off the oven and meet me in five minutes. You took care of the Café, now it's my turn to cover the Moulin Rouge"

"Oui, mon amour," he replied with a grin.

"Now, that's a good boy," she winked.


End file.
